


My Life was a Blank Canvas and You were the Color

by solostsobroken



Series: And Then There Was Color [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: American Sign Language, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Mickey Milkovich, Deaf Mickey, First Kiss, Grinding, Homeless Mickey, Homelessness, Ian is 24, M/M, Mickey and Mandy are NOT related, Mickey is 17, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2018-12-16 14:59:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solostsobroken/pseuds/solostsobroken
Summary: “Mandy, I can’t—““Yes, you can! I’d take him into my own home, but I only know very basic sign language. I can’t communicate with him properly. But you can, Ian. Please, he’d be so happy having someone to actually talk to him instead of talk around him.”Ian sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his resolve shattering further.Mandy grabbed both of his hands in her own and bit her lip, staring pleadingly at the redhead. “Please, Ian. You know I don’t ask for much, but this is important to me. It would only be for a few weeks until I find Mickey a proper shelter. Can you just do it for a few weeks? So he doesn’t freeze to death on the streets?”Ian let his head fall back and thunk against the couch, groaning loudly. “Fine!” he exclaimed, covering his face with his hands.ORThe fic where Mandy volunteers at a shelter for homeless youth, said shelter gets shut down by the city, and Mandy SOMEHOW convinces Ian to take in a homeless, deaf Mickey. Oh, and Ian may or may not fall in love along the way. (He totally does.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Not sure why, but this idea has been rolling around in my head for a few days now, so I decided to just write it down. Hope you lovely people enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Feedback is always welcome!
> 
> Also, this story was supposed to be a one-shot (it turned into 6 chapters with an epilogue. Whoops), and that CLEARLY did not happen. I have a bad habit of going overboard with writing (though some wouldn't count that as a bad thing, lol), and I'm trying to get better at keeping things to 5000 words or less. That being said, if anyone has a prompt small enough for a one-shot, PLEASE send it to me, whether it's in the comments or on my tumblr. I am quite busy so I can't promise that I'll get to it right away, but I'll try my best. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Got a prompt for a one-shot? Message me on my tumblr: http://hero-complex-girl.tumblr.com/ask

Ian yawned as he stepped out of the sleek office building on 23rd street. He was fucking _exhausted._ He was only supposed to be in the office from 8 to 4, but 3 different files of paperwork had gotten mixed up due to some careless intern, meaning Ian was the lucky bastard who got to stay and sort out the mess. And here he was, 2 hours past quitting time, clutching his briefcase tiredly and mumbling to himself in annoyance as he walked to his SUV. As pissed off as the intern’s mistake had made him, he really couldn’t be too angry. His next paycheck would be even fatter than usual. He’d _never_ complain about that.

Ian sighed in relief as he neared his red vehicle, clicking the button to unlock it. He quickly brushed away the small pile of snow from the door handle and opened it, throwing his briefcase onto the passenger seat. He started the engine and turned the heat on full blast before grabbing the ice-scraper from his backseat. He closed the door as he got to work scraping the ice from all his windows, shivering as the cold seeped in through his jacket.

“Gonna freeze my fucking balls off,” he grumbled, trying to go as fast as he possibly could. He bit back a few curse words as he heard his phone ring from deep within his pocket. He sighed and reached for it, struggling a little before finally grasping it with numb fingers and pulling it out. His irritation melted for a moment when he saw it was his best friend calling.

“What’s up, Mandy?” he asked, trying to decide if he could scrape ice one-handed or not. After a few weak attempts, he decided it was a no go.

“Ian?”

Ian immediately froze at the tone of her voice. It was quiet and wobbly and so unlike Mandy that he double checks his phone to make sure it actually _is_ Mandy that he’s talking to.

“Mandy?” he tries again, softening his voice. “Hey, you ok? You don’t sound—“

“They’re closing it, Ian! They’re fucking _closing_ it!” she yells, accompanied by a loud sob.

“Closing what, Mandy? Hey, it’s ok. What are they—“

“The homeless shelter for the youth!” she cries, sniffling so loudly that Ian cringes.

“Oh,” Ian says dumbly, finally understanding.

Mandy had always been big on charities and volunteer work, and for the last couple of years she had been stuck on a homeless shelter downtown that was specifically for the youth. She loved working with kids, loved playing with them and conversing with them. She always had stories for Ian about something _this_ kid had done or something _that_ kid had said, and her enthusiasm was always genuine when talking about them. It made Ian happy knowing that Mandy completely enjoyed her time spent at the shelter. But upon hearing it was closing down, his heart ached for her.

“I can be over in ten minutes,” Ian spoke, giving up completely on scraping the ice away as he opened the car door and hopped inside.

Mandy sniffled a few times before giving a wet laugh. “You’re the best, Ian.”

“Hold onto those words. I haven’t brought you a bucket of ice-cream yet,” Ian joked, buckling his seatbelt one-handed.

Mandy let out a half laugh, half sob before replying. “Thanks, Ian. See you in a bit.” With that, she hung up.

Ian flung his phone onto the passenger seat next to his briefcase, groaning as his stomach rumbled loudly. He glared down at it and hissed, “Don’t be so selfish. Our best friend needs us. You’re getting ice-cream for dinner, no excuses.” He glanced up through the window, sighing in relief as he saw it was mostly thawed. If it wasn’t, he would have had to pull an Ace Ventura.

“All right, Mands. Here I come,” he mumbled, throwing the car into reverse before tearing off towards the nearest gas station to buy some ice-cream.

**XOXOXOXO**

“I just don’t get it,” Ian says, washing down his rocky road ice-cream with a long swig of beer. “Who the fuck shuts down a homeless shelter for _teens_?”

Mandy sighs and shakes her head, shoving another spoonful of chocolate into her mouth. She then took a few moments to violently stab at the remaining frozen treat. “Fucking assholes who are supposed to fund that fucking place, that’s who. Those places work on donations, you know? Well, put in a new non-profit animal shelter down the road and there goes the donations. Apparently keeping puppies alive is more important than helping out defenseless kids who have nowhere to go. Fucking animals.” The last part is mumbled, but Ian hears is clearly enough, making him laugh.

“But you have two cats, Mandy,” he points out, a smirk on his lips.

She glares at him, face no longer blotchy from crying. “Those were _gifts_ , Ian. That’s different. You should know since you’re the one who gave them to me.”

Ian snorts and takes another swig of beer, patting Mandy on the knee with his other hand. “I’m just joking, Mands. I know you have a good heart.”

She smiles tiredly and lowers her eyes back to her bucket of ice-cream. “Sure doesn’t feel like it right now.” She rubs at her eyes with her palms and sighs. “I know it’s not my fault that it’s shutting down. I _know_ that. There’s nothing I could have done about it, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less. Just… those poor _kids_ , Ian. Now they all have to move to different shelters, and _that_ was a fucking process to go through earlier.”

“How many did you re-shelter?” Ian asked, taking in his friends tired face.

“Surprisingly most of them,” she muttered. “I thought it would be harder since it’s the middle of winter. Not to mention, Christmas is a month away. Shelters are usually full of people who want to be inside for the holidays.”

Ian nodded. “And how many are left?”

Mandy squinted her blue eyes, tilting her head to the side in thought. “Just three, I believe. But they have to be out by tomorrow night. That’s when the doors are closing.”

Ian curled his lip in disgust. “They won’t even give them time to find new places? They just have to get the fuck out and that’s it?”

“Yup,” Mandy responded, popping the P. She went back to stabbing her ice-cream. “I’ve spent the last few _years_ of my life at that shelter, helping those kids and getting to know them. Now they’re all going to be scattered all over the place. Some I may never even see again. I fucking _hate_ that, Ian.”

Ian smiled at her sadly, gently rubbing her back. “I know, Mands. That really fucking sucks. I know how much you love that place.”

Mandy nodded in agreement and dropped her spoon into the bowl, as if she was giving up. “I just want them all to be ok,” she added gently.

“They will be, Mandy. You know where they all got sent to, right?”

“Yeah,” Mandy agreed. “I was the one making phone calls for six hours straight.”

“And that’s amazing. _You’re_ amazing, Mandy. It takes a special person to care for people like that. And I guarantee that you’ll find the other three shelters as well.”

She sent him a small smile but then bit her lip in hesitation, eyes flickering to the floor.

“What? What is it?” Ian asked. If Ian had to sit here and give his best friend a pep talk the entire night to make her feel better, then damn it, he would.

“Well,” she started, a frown taking over her pretty features. “I’m confident I’ll find shelters for at least two of them. But… the last boy is a little _special_.”

Ian rose an eyebrow. “Define _special_.”

Mandy smiled softly and murmured, “Mickey. He’s seventeen and he’s completely deaf.”

“Oh. Well that’s… that’s unfortunate.”

“It really is,” Mandy agreed. “If I’m being honest, he’s secretly always been my favorite person at the shelter. He’s a sweet kid, but it seems like no shelter wants to give him a chance because he’s handicapped. Nobody has any sign language volunteers at other shelters like we do. He wouldn’t be able to communicate with anybody. But he can’t live out on the fucking streets, either.”

Ian hummed, feeling a twinge of sympathy for the kid he’d never met before. He couldn’t even imagine how tough it must be to try and survive in this world without being able to hear anything. Some people just really had shitty luck.

Mandy sighed. “I just don’t think Mickey is going to be so lucky. If I just had a bit more time…” Her voice wobbled for a second, making Ian think she was going to start crying once more. He was immediately startled from the thought as she grabbed his bicep in a crushing hold.

“Ow, the fuck, Mandy!” Ian protested, eyes darting back and forth between her white-knuckled grip and her face. He froze for a moment at the wild look in her eyes, raising an eyebrow in question. “What—“

“You know sign language!” she exclaimed, grinning widely. “You took it for three years in college, Ian!”

Then it clicked. Ian knew where this was going.

“Oh, no Mandy, I—“

“You did!” she accused, letting go of his arm to fist the front of his shirt instead. “Don’t lie to me, Gallagher. I remember you boasting to me about how your professor said you were at the top of the class. That means not only did you _take_ sign language, but you were fucking _good_ at it.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I can take in some _stranger_.”

“Yes you can!” Mandy squawked, smile growing even wider. “And he’s not a stranger. He’s a friend of mine, Ian. A friend who’s going to be kicked out of the only home he’s ever known. If that happens, I’m going to be upset, Ian. _Very_ upset.”

Ian groaned and covered his face with his hands, already feeling his resolve start to crumble. What he didn’t do for this woman.

“I have _work,_ Mandy. I can’t drag him back and forth with me. What’s he gonna do? Sit in my office and _color_ for eight hours until I’m done?”

“You’re your own boss, dumbass! You can work from home whenever the fuck you want to!” Mandy exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. “You’re always bitching about how you hate going in every day. So work from home! That way you can work _and_ keep an eye on Mickey!”

“Mandy, I _can’t_ —“

“ _Yes_ , you can! I’d take him into my own home, but I only know very basic sign language. I can’t communicate with him properly. But _you_ can, Ian. Please, he’d be _so_ happy having someone to actually talk _to_ him instead of talk _around_ him.”

Ian sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his resolve shattering further.

Mandy grabbed both of his hands in her own and bit her lip, staring pleadingly at the redhead. “Please, Ian. You know I don’t ask for much, but this is important to me. It would only be for a few weeks until I find Mickey a proper shelter. Can you just do it for a few weeks? So he doesn’t freeze to death on the streets?”

Ian let his head fall back and thunk against the couch, groaning loudly. “Fine!” he exclaimed, covering his face with his hands.

Mandy squealed loudly in his ear and squeezed his middle in a tight hug, crushing his ribs. Ian grimaced as she pried his hands away from his face and pressed a bunch of sloppy kisses to his cheeks and forehead. He was going to scold her about getting her cherry-red lipstick all over his face, but he smiled instead, glad he could make her happy.

“ _Thank_ you, Ian!” she sang, hugging him around the middle once more. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You have _no_ idea how much that means to me!”

Ian chuckled and returned the hug, pressing his nose to her sweet-smelling hair. “Anything for you, Mandy. _However_ …”

Mandy pulled back to look him in the eyes, biting her lip as they held each other’s gazes.

“If this kid starts breaking my shit or steals my things, then the deal’s off. I’m not a babysitter.”

Mandy just grins in response. “Mickey’s a good boy, Ian. He wouldn’t do anything like that. Pinky promise.”

Ian rolls his eyes at the pinky she offers him, but shakes it anyway. “And can you _promise_ me that you will try your absolute _hardest_ to find him a shelter? I don’t mean to sound like a dick, but I do like my privacy.”

Mandy raises an eyebrow. “And _that’s_ why relationships never work out for you.”

Ian flips her the bird but chuckles anyway. She had a point.  

“Yes, I promise, Ian. I’ll work my hardest to find Mickey a shelter. I just need a couple of weeks, ok? Think you can handle that?”

Ian nods again at the hopeful look in her eyes, cringing when she squeals loudly and hops off the couch.

“I have to go make a phone call really quick. Thanks again, Ian. Seriously.” And just like that, she dashes off into her bedroom, black hair flying wildly behind her.

Ian just shook his head and downed the rest of his beer, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt before belching loudly. He sat there for a few moments in silence, listening to Mandy’s muffled voice coming from her bedroom. He couldn’t help but smile tenderly at the excitement that was audible in her voice. It was more than obvious that she had a special place in her heart for this kid, this _Mickey._

“Mickey,” Ian murmured, testing out the name on his tongue. He whistled lowly as he set his empty beer bottle onto the rickety coffee table. “Better brush up on my signing skills,” Ian mumbled, not recalling the last time he had actually _used_ the language. If he had to guess, it would have been his senior year of college. Fuck, that had been 2 years ago. He hoped he still remembered most of it.

He closed his eyes and sighed, resting his head against the back of the couch.

What had he just gotten himself into?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all the responses/feedback this story has gotten so far! They all make me smile! Hope you guys enjoy this next chapter :D

**“Someone using ASL (American Sign Language) is shown in Bold with quotation marks.”**

 

 

Ian sighed, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed his living room. He tilted his head slightly, wondering what impression it gave off to someone who had never stepped foot inside his condo before.

Ian lived on the 16th floor, which was the highest the building went. He wasn’t a big fan of heights, but he had opted for the top floor since the condos up there were bigger than all the floors below. Did he really _need_ a huge condo? Considering it was just Ian living there, no. But he made more money than he knew what to do with. He had the condo just because he _could_ have it. It was something shiny, something new, something pristine, something that was _all his_ that he wasn’t forced to share with 5 other siblings. It was something he had worked his fucking ass off for and that’s what made it great.

At least, that’s what he had thought when he first bought it a year ago.

Ian frowned and ran a hand through his hair as he swept his eyes over the interior. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that the place was beautiful. The interior was all white carpet and black furniture, the carpet eventually turning into shiny, black, ceramic squares as you walked into the kitchen. When entering the condo from the front door, you stepped directly into the living room, giving you a nice view of the huge leather couch and sleek black coffee table sitting squarely in front of it. There was a fireplace to the left of the couch that Ian never used, made of grey and black marble. The room was an open floor plan, the large kitchen sitting to the right of the living room. The only thing ‘separating’ the two was a big kitchen island, made of even more black marble. Three bulky, white chairs sat in front of it, inviting anyone to sit and eat. The kitchen stuck with the color scheme, but threw in a stainless-steel fridge to shake things up. The entire wall next to the kitchen was one giant window, letting in plenty of natural light.

The place was _beautiful_.

The place was fucking _lonely._

The condo may have been elegant and contemporary in its looks, but that was the problem. It looked like a picture taken from a _Betters Homes and Gardens_ catalogue, sleek and cold and untouched. Almost like he had just moved in yesterday. He had no furniture besides the bare essentials. There wasn’t any cool décor to be seen, no photos of his family members hanging on the plain, white walls. If Ian was being honest, it didn’t even _look_ lived in, the only sign of life being a small vase with a fake, purple rose sitting in the middle of the coffee table.

Ian had never really cared how his home appeared since he spent the majority of his time at work anyway. And the time he _did_ spend at home was usually spent in his bedroom down the hallway, either sleeping or getting food crumbs all over his carpet. But for the first time since moving in, now that he knew someone else was going to be sharing his space, the lack of life in the condo made him feel a bitter sadness creep into his chest.

Ian scrubbed his eyes with his palms, sighing wearily. He wondered if that’s what Mandy saw every time she came over; Ian, living a lonely, isolated life. Did his home reflect who he was as a person? Did he put on a nice, distracting front while he was nothing more than plain and hollow when you looked more closely?

Is that what this Mickey guy would think? Would Mickey even _like_ the place? For being a person that Ian had never met, he sure was worried about what Mickey’s opinion of the place would be. He wasn’t sure if that was due to his previous thoughts, or if he just wanted the homeless teen to feel as comfortable as possible for the next few weeks.

The sharp ring of the doorbell broke Ian out of his thoughts, causing him to jerk in surprise and place a hand over his thrumming heart. He let out a shaky laugh and wiped sweaty palms on his jeans.

“Get a grip, Gallagher,” Ian muttered, closing the distance between himself and the doorway. He quickly grabbed the handle and twisted it, pulling it open to reveal a smiling Mandy and a shorter young man standing next to her. _Mickey_.

Ian flashed Mandy a quick smile before he let his eyes fall onto Mickey. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at the teenager. He was a good amount shorter than Ian, causing him to tilt his head up to connect eyes with the redhead. His skin was a creamy-white color, cheeks flushed red from the winter air. A pair of plush, red lips pressed into a small smile. A strong nose sat above the lips, leading up to a pair of soft, blue eyes surrounded by thick lashes. If Ian looked close enough, he could make out the faintest smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. His hair was hidden beneath a frayed beanie, but the pieces sticking out suggested the color was black.

Ian frowned slightly as he noticed Mickey was just wearing a thin windbreaker, doing absolutely nothing to keep out the chill of winter. The jeans he wore looked faded beyond belief, a large hole ripped in the left knee. The sneakers on his feet looked like they had seen better days, as did the small backpack slung over his shoulder.

Despite Mickey’s inadequate clothing, the young man was nothing less than _gorgeous_ as he stared up at Ian with big, blue eyes. The smile Ian sent him wasn’t even forced in the slightest.

“Ian!” Mandy greeted, stepping forward to give him a big hug.

Ian’s attention shifted to his best friend for a moment as he returned the hug, gritting his teeth at the cold press of her jacket against his bare arms. “Good to see you too, Mands.”

“Thanks again for doing this, Ian. You have no idea how grateful I am,” she whispered in his ear, as if she were afraid Mickey could hear them.

Ian just smiled as she pulled away. “Anything for you, Mandy. So, you gonna introduce us, or do I just stand here looking like a jackass?”

“Oh, _tempting_ ,” she smirked, stepping towards Mickey again and resting a hand on his bony shoulder. She smiled at the brunette upon catching his attention, holding her hand up in front of him. “This is Ian,” Mandy chirped, brow furrowing as she struggled to sign it at the same time. Ian held back a laugh at how horrible she was at it. He’d have to give her lessons at some point in the future.

Ian caught Mickey’s eye once again and smiled, giving a small wave before signing, **“Hi, my name is Ian. It’s nice to meet you, Mickey.”**

Mickey glanced out the corner of his eyes at Mandy before quickly shifting back to Ian, using his hands to respond. **“It’s nice to meet someone who can actually fucking sign.”**

Ian blinked in surprise before bursting out laughing.

Mandy frowned as she looked between the two, shaking her head before muttering, “Great. I’m already the butt of some joke.”

Ian elbowed her in the ribs and rolled his eyes. “Let’s just say we’ll get along fine.”

Mandy grinned. “Oh, I knew you would. Never had any doubts!”

“You wanna stay for some dinner?” Ian asked, aware of Mickey’s eyes roaming around the room. He’d let him look his fill.

“Unfortunately, I can’t. I gotta get back to work,” Mandy sighed as she checked her phone for the time. Shoving it back into her pocket, she turned back to Mickey and pulled him into a long, tight hug. Ian was a little surprised when Mickey returned the hug, burying his face into her neck.

Mandy smiled hesitantly when she caught Ian’s eye. “He might be a little nervous. He hasn’t stayed in a house in _years_ , so it might be a lot for him to take in.”

Ian nodded in understanding, smiling gently as Mandy pressed a lingering kiss to Mickey’s hairline. Despite what Mandy had said about Mickey being her favorite, he hadn’t realized they were so close.

Mandy cleared her throat and pulled back, smiling at Mickey **. “I have to work, but I’ll be back later. If Ian gives you any trouble, you tell me.”**

Ian rose an eyebrow. “I can see everything you’re saying, you know.”

Mandy poked her tongue out at him. “I know. And I _meant_ it. Play nice.” With one last kiss to Mickey’s forehead, Mandy breezed out the door, mumbling about how her boss was going to kill her. Once the door closed behind her, Ian and Mickey stood in silence, Mickey staring at the door and Ian staring at Mickey.

Ian’s heart felt funny as he took in the change in Mickey’s demeanor. With Mandy there, Mickey had looked fine, like he had been comfortable with her by his side. Without Mandy there, Mickey looked lost, fiddling nervously with the strap on his backpack and biting his bottom lip nervously. It made Ian feel oddly guilty.

He gently reached out a hand and placed it on Mickey’s shoulder, not liking how thin it felt. Mickey turned his head and looked up at him, prompting Ian to send him an easy smile.

**“Are you hungry? I was just going to make some macaroni and cheese.”**

Mickey hesitated for a moment, as if he was unsure what to make of Ian. Then he slowly lifted his hand and responded.

 **“I like macaroni.** ”

Ian grinned. **“Me too! It’s my favorite meal.”**

That earned him a small smile from the brunette. Somehow, it felt like a whole lot more.

 **“Do you want to shower while I’m making it?”** Ian asked **. “I can show you your room so you can put your things into drawers, if you’d like.”**

Mickey blinked his eyes and bit his lip before nodding. Ian smiled and gestured for him to follow. They walked down the hallway and took a left into the spare bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was large and clean with a queen-sized bed in the middle of the room. Ian had just finished putting new blankets and pillows on it before Mickey had arrived, and now he was silently cursing himself at how _white_ the entire room was. White walls, white carpet, white bed. He should have gone out and bought something colorful to cheer the place up, but he wasn’t going to beat himself up about it.

Ian gestured to the walk-in-closet and the set of dresser drawers. **“You can use both if you’d like. Whatever makes you feel comfortable. The bathroom is this way.”** Ian silently led him back across the hallway to the bathroom, where a giant shower with multiple showerheads awaited them. Ian silently cursed himself at the overwhelmed look on Mickey’s face. It was probably the fanciest shower Mickey had ever seen in his life, and Ian understood how that could be a scary thing.

Ian quickly reached in and turned it on, feeling the temperature with his hands to make sure it wasn’t too hot or cold. He then flashed a comforting smile at Mickey. **“I know it looks scary, but it’s not. That one lever controls the temperature. Turn it to the left if you want it hotter, or to the right if you want it colder. When you want to turn it off, just push the whole knob in towards the wall. Pretty simple.”**

Mickey’s eyes flickered between Ian and the shower for a moment, not making any movements beside that. Ian’s smile faltered for a moment, wondering if Mickey had been able to pick up all of his signing. As if sensing Ian’s confusion, Mickey shot him a lazy smile.

**“I’m gonna get undressed now…”**

Ian snorted and facepalmed, shaking his head at his own stupidity. **“Right! Sorry. I’m not usually good with people.”**

Mickey let out a soft huff of amusement, gesturing to his ears before signing, **“Neither am I.”**

Ian grinned at him, glad that the awkwardness seemed to have disappeared altogether. **“There’s towels in the closet. Feel free to use anything in here, ok?”** Receiving a small head nod from Mickey, Ian wiggled his fingers in goodbye as he walked out the door, shutting it firmly behind him to leave the teenager to some much-deserved privacy.

Yes, they were going to get along just fine.

**XOXOXOXO**

Ian’s mouth watered as he stirred the steaming pot of noodles and gooey cheese. It smelled so good that he was tempted to scoop a spoonful into his mouth directly from the pot, but he knew that wasn’t considered to be proper behavior when you were sharing with guests. Instead, he grabbed two ceramic bowls from his cupboard and scooped a healthy portion into each one, setting them in front of the chairs on the kitchen island instead.

Right one cue, Mickey walked into the kitchen, black hair damp and sticking up adorably in random places. His cheeks were pink once again, but this time it was due to the warmth of the shower instead of the biting cold of winter.

Ian frowned slightly as he took in Mickey’s clothes. The teen was wearing nothing more than a thin t-shirt and a pair of holey sweatpants. No socks were to be found on his feet. It made Ian cold just looking at him.

Mickey walked hesitantly over to Ian, eyes landing on the macaroni. Ian frowned at the obvious hunger in his eyes, pink tongue coming out to lick his lips. He wondered how big the portion sizes were at Mickey’s shelter. Going by the look on the younger man’s face as well as his boney frame, Ian would guess it wasn’t much. They had multiple people to feed, after all.

Ian shook himself out of the sad thoughts and grinned at Mickey, gesturing for him to sit. Mickey hesitated a moment before carefully settling himself into the chair, fingers drumming against the marble counter. Ian pushed a fork his way as he slid into the chair next to him, earning a shy look from Mickey.

**“There’s plenty more where that came from, ok? You can have as much as you want.”**

A look of surprise flashed across Mickey’s face, making Ian’s heart feel oddly heavy. He then gave Ian a small smile before picking up his fork and scooping a small bite into his mouth. Ian’s breath caught in his throat as Mickey closed his eyes in bliss and sighed through his nose before chewing rapidly and shoveling in more, as if it were his last meal.

The two sat in content silence for a while, both enjoying the meal and digging into their second bowls of the night. After washing his second helping down with a glass of milk, Ian was _full_. He got up and rinsed his dishes in the sink before shoving them into his dishwasher. Once that task was done, he turned around and eyed Mickey, his mind going once more to the brunettes clothing. If you could really _call_ it clothing, anyway.

Ian came to stand across from Mickey on the other side of the kitchen island, lightly tapping his fingers on the counter next to Mickey’s free hand. Blue eyes lifted to meet his, mouth still chewing the cheesy noodles.

 **“It can get a little chilly in here at night. Do you have any sweaters?”** Ian asked.

Mickey slowly shook his head no, lifting his hand to respond. **“Just a few t-shirts and my windbreaker. Haven’t had many chances to go clothes shopping lately.”** Mickey gave a small smile to show he was cracking a joke, causing Ian to blink in surprise before laughing out loud.

 **“I suppose not,”** Ian replied, grinning back. Seeing Mickey’s bowl was almost empty, he grabbed the pot and scooped more into the brunette’s bowl, earning him a grateful smile in return. **“Will you be willing to wear a pair of my sweatpants and a hoodie? They might be a bit warmer than what you’re wearing. I just don’t want you to be cold or uncomfortable.”**

Mickey bites his lip for a moment before slowly nodding his head yes. **“If it’s not too much of a problem…”**

Ian immediately shakes his head no. **“Not at all. In fact, I _want_ you to wear my clothes. Just until I can buy you some of your own.”**

Taking in Ian’s words, Mickey’s face closed off and he lowered his eyes back to his bowl, his signing going jerky with obvious frustration. **“I appreciate the offer, but I’m not a fucking charity case. My own clothes are fine.”**

Realizing he hit a nerve, Ian gently wrapped his hand around Mickey’s fist, causing the boy to look at their connected hands. He blinked at them for a few seconds with an unreadable expression before looking back at Ian.

**“That’s not what I meant, Mickey. I apologize if it came out like that, but I really think you need some clothes that are appropriate for winter. I don’t think you’re a charity case. I’d _never_ think that. Just think of it as a gift from a friend.” **

Mickey eyed him for a few moments, the wheels obviously spinning in his head. Ian, though a bit hurt at the accusation, could see where Mickey was coming from. He doubted there were many people in Mickey’s life who would do something for him out of pure kindness. Why would Mickey think Ian was any different?

After a good amount of scrutinization from the teenager, Mickey finally lowered his eyes and nodded his head yes, signing one simple word. **“Thanks.”**

**XOXOXOXO**

Ian peeks out the corner of his eye at Mickey for what must have been the hundredth time since he sat down on the couch. Mickey, like all the other times, is completely oblivious, wide eyes focused on the television, knees drawn up to his chin as his hands fist the material of the sweatpants he’s wearing.

After three bowls of macaroni, Mickey had finally been full, pushing his bowl away with a sleepy look on his face. Before Mickey could retire to his room, Ian had quickly went and grabbed a pair of socks, some black sweatpants and a cream-colored sweater for him to wear. He wasn’t sure why he was so hell bent on making Mickey warm and comfortable, but he went with it anyway. Upon returning to the living room, half expecting Mickey to be sleeping in the kitchen chair, he was surprised to find Mickey standing in front of Ian’s tv with a look of wonder on his face, any previous traces of exhaustion gone.

Intrigued, Ian had looked at the screen, frowning when he saw it was just the news that was playing. Ian absolutely _hated_ watching the news, but to each their own. He had tapped Mickey on the shoulder to get his attention, staring down at his face as he rose an eyebrow.

 **“This your favorite show?”** he asked, smiling to show he was teasing.

Mickey had just blinked at him with those wide, blue eyes and shrugged, looking back at the tv while he signed. **“I never get to watch tv. There was only one at the shelter and it was usually broken. Even when it wasn’t, I still couldn’t watch it because I didn’t know what was happening. But yours has words. I can understand what’s happening.”**

Ian’s heart had melted at the confession. Before Mickey had been done with his shower, Ian had turned on the tv for some background noise. Being considerate of Mickey’s impairment, he had turned on closed captioning so Mickey could watch if he so desired. _Clearly_ it had been a good idea, but he couldn’t help the anger that bubbled up inside him at the fact that Mickey had rarely got to enjoy a small luxury like watching a simple tv show. The thought had never even occurred to him that Mickey may not have _ever_ been able to enjoy tv because of being deaf. It made Ian wonder how many other things mickey had missed out on because of his impairment. The thought made him sad.

After telling Mickey multiple times that he was more than welcome to watch whatever he wanted, _whenever_ he wanted, he shooed him into the bathroom to change into the warmer clothes. And if Ian was being honest, Mickey was fucking _drowning_ in his clothes.

Mickey was already small and thin with bones so sharp they could cut diamonds. But the size of Ian’s sweater wrapped around Mickey’s frame just emphasized their body differences. On the plus side, Mickey looked warmer now, a light flush to his cheeks. It was a good look on the younger man. In fact, if Ian was being honest, seeing Mickey’s small frame wrapped up in his clothes made something warm stir in the pit of Ian’s stomach.

Ian drew in a sharp breath as he realized that he actually _liked_ the way Mickey looked in his clothes. Almost like he belonged in them. He swallowed thickly as he forced his eyes to move back to the tv. He couldn’t think inappropriate thoughts about someone who was underage. That’s was all kinds of fucked up.

 _He’s almost eighteen_ , his brain supplied, causing him to let out a small groan as he rubbed his eyes with his palms. He gave his head a small shake, trying to clear away any thoughts that were even _remotely_ close to being indecent.

Despite his efforts, he couldn’t help but glance at Mickey once more, who was still quietly absorbed in the tv that was now playing an old episode of SpongeBob. He smiled softly at the obvious interest on the other boys face. It was cute.

Ian sighed, scratching at his chin. All of these thoughts just because of some clothes. He was going to have to take Mickey clothes shopping _pronto._

Ian stood up from the couch, raising his arms to crack his back. He shivered in satisfaction as he felt his joints pop, almost missing the way that Mickey’s eyes moved from the tv to the exposed skin of Ian’s stomach from his shirt riding up. His eyes lingered for a few moments, finally snapping up to connect with Ian’s. His cheeks flushed pink as he looked back to the tv, making Ian raise an eyebrow.

_Interesting._

Ian ran a hand through his hair, trying to ignore the fact that Mickey had more or less been checking him out moments ago. Instead, he smiled and waved a hand to get Mickey’s attention. His smile grew wider at the shy look Mickey gave him, blinking up at Ian through his thick lashes.

 **“I’m going to go do some paperwork before I go to bed. I have to go into the office early tomorrow, but when I come back, I’m taking you to the mall, ok?”** Ian asked, watching as Mickey swallowed thickly before nodding his head yes. **“I want you to make yourself at home, ok Mickey? What’s mine is yours. If you have a question or need something, don’t hesitate to knock on my door, ok?”**

This time Mickey gave him a small smile. **“I will. Thanks, Ian. That really means a lot.”**

 **“You’re more than welcome,”** Ian replied, waving his fingers before turning around and walking towards his bedroom, praying that he’d be able to concentrate on his work rather than the beautiful boy sitting on his couch.

**XOXOXOXO**

The next night, Ian found himself sitting on his living room floor, surrounded by piles of new clothing as Mickey napped on the couch in front of him. Ian chuckled as he cut the tag off of a new shirt, folding it and laying it neatly on top of another pile.

Ian had gone into work early that day to take a care of a few things, planning on using most of the daylight to take Mickey to the mall. So that’s exactly what they had done. Mickey had been a bit reluctant at first, telling Ian over and over again that he was fine with his clothes and he didn’t need any new ones. But Ian was a persistent bastard, eventually wrangling Mikey into a pair of thick sweat pants, a sweater and one of Ian’s old winter jackets. Everything was huge on Mickey, but it’s all he had to work with.

Once they actually got to the mall, Mickey seemed to become a whole different person. The shy reluctance was replaced with wide-eyed fascination, his head swiveling back and forth to look at this, that and the other thing. Ian was usually a get-in, get-out kind of person, not the biggest fan of crowds. But Ian was so mesmerized by the looks of curiosity and fascination displayed on Mickey’s face that the large crowd of Christmas shoppers seemed to blend into the background.

It was fucking cute.

With a gentle hand on Mickey’s lower back, he had guided him in and out of all kinds of different shops. Mickey’s reluctance showed once more when Ian had asked what kind of clothes he liked, but Ian quickly remedied the nervous boy by grabbing random clothes and having Mickey try them all on. After knowing what size he was looking for, Ian started yanking anything off the racks that Mickey seemed even remotely interested in, no matter what the price was.

After 6 hours of shopping, Ian could tell that Mickey was exhausted, his eyes drooping as he tried to stifle his yawns. That was the definite sign that they should leave, so with 700 bucks worth of clothing, Ian guided Mickey back to the car and drove home.

And that’s where he currently found himself, cutting all of the tags off of new clothing as he kept an eye on Mickey’s sleeping face. As he snipped the tag off of the last hoodie, he couldn’t help but wonder how many loads it was going to take to wash all of it. There were piles scattered all around him, making Ian blink in surprise at how different it made the room look. Yes, the living room still looked immaculate, but the messiness of the clothing and crumpled shopping bags gave it a new look. Ian couldn’t quite tell if he liked it or not.

His eyes traveled back to Mickey, curled on his side and lips slightly parted. A small strand of black hair had fallen against his forehead, giving Ian the strange urge to brush it back with gentle fingers. Without even realizing it, Ian shuffled towards Mickey on his knees, stopping when he was right in front of the couch. He sat back on his heels and just _looked_ at the younger boy, taking in the freckles across his nose, the lashes resting against his cheeks, the rise and fall of his narrow chest. His heart felt funny as he looked his fill, taking note of how relaxed and carefree Mickey looked as he slept.

Ian’s heart thrummed a little faster as he slowly rose his hand towards Mickey’s face, intending to brush the lock of hair out of Mickey’s eyes. However, he stopped himself as the brunette let out a soft noise in his sleep. Ian smiled gently down at him, liking the way it sounded. His fingers found themselves moving once more, but not towards the stray lock of hair. Instead, they took a detour and softly brushed against a cheekbone, the skin soft and supple beneath his fingertips. Ian’s heart stuttered once more as he looked at the sleeping boy, realizing just how gorgeous he was. He sure did make a pretty picture snoozing on Ian’s couch.

As if he had been burned, Ian snatched his hand away, feeling guilt crash over him in waves. What kind of person was he turning into? Since when did he perv on unconscious boys? _Underage_ unconscious ones, at that?

Ian quickly scooted back to the clothes piles and scooped up an armful, carefully heaving himself to his feet. As he made his way to the washing machine in his bathroom, he glanced once more at Mickey. His heart immediately responded, fluttering rapidly in his chest as his stomach suddenly acquired butterflies. It felt funny but familiar, a spark he hadn’t felt for anyone in a _long_ time.

After shoving the armful of clothes into the washer, Ian turned the machine on and ran a hand through his hair. He sighed and leaned against the bathroom wall, staring at his reflection in the mirror as he understood what the feeling was.

It was a crush.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this chapter shouldn't have taken nearly as long as it did since I've got the whole story outlined, but college is a bitch. Hopefully the next one won't take nearly as long. Especially since I have a month off starting in 2 weeks! Woooo!!!
> 
> I'm not particularly happy with how the end of this chapter turned out, but I'm sick of looking at the damn thing so here ya go.

**“Someone using ASL (American Sign Language) is shown in Bold with quotation marks.”**

 

_I have a crush on Mickey._

_I have a fucking crush on Mickey._

_I’m perving on someone underage._

_Get a grip, Gallagher._

Ian sighed as he stared up at his ceiling, clutching the silky fabric of his sheets between his fingers. It was Saturday, meaning he could sleep in for as long as he wanted. But instead of getting some much needed sleep, he woke up at the ass crack of dawn with Mickey on his mind. Though if he was being honest, the brunette had been on his mind for the last few days, ever since he’d come to the mind-shattering conclusion that he _actually_ liked someone for the first time in forever.

It’s not like his crush was a _bad_ thing, necessarily. In fact, Ian felt a little relieved knowing that he could still feel anything for anyone. The thing that got him was he wasn’t sure how to act around Mickey now. It was a dumb thing to be concerned about since Mickey had no clue, but _Ian_ knew, and that was enough. It’s like his feelings made him hyperaware of everything Mickey related, from the way he smelled like Ian’s soap, to the way he rubbed his lower lip when he was nervous, and even to the way he nibbled on the strings of his sweater when he was deep in thought.

It was downright annoying.

It was also cute as fuck.

Ian let out a frustrated sigh and sat up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed. He stretched his muscles and yawned, jaw cracking before he got up and slipped on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. He stopped in front of the mirror and cringed at his bedhead, running his fingers through it so he looked at least a little bit human.

“All right,” he told his reflection, giving himself a stern look. “You’re going to forget about this crush crap. Mickey will be gone in a few weeks and your crush will fade like every other one you’ve had. ‘Nough said.”

As Ian pushed away from the mirror, he didn’t dwell on how his own words made his heart feel heavy and weird. Instead, he focused on pushing down his feelings as he walked through the door, making his way to the kitchen. He needed coffee just as much as he needed oxygen.

As he exited the hallway and stepped into the sun-lit living room, he was surprised to see Mickey already awake. He had a habit of getting up after Ian, allowing the redhead to have breakfast ready and waiting by the time he stumbled bleary-eyed out of the spare bedroom. Seeing Mickey up before him made Ian feel especially lazy.

Ian was going to wave his fingers in greeting but stopped with his hand in mid-air. He had been so distracted by seeing Mickey awake that he hadn’t noticed that the brunette wasn’t paying him any attention. Instead, the younger boy was sitting cross-legged on the couch and focusing on something in his lap. Ian squinted as he slowly walked closer, blinking in surprise when he noticed it was a sketch pad. A quick shift of his eyes to the coffee table allowed him to see handfuls of markers, crayons and colored pencils sitting upon it. A few pieces of paper were scattered on the couch cushions, bright color visible from where Ian was standing.

Ian continued to walk forward until he was a few feet away, but Mickey still hadn’t noticed him, biting his plump bottom lip in concentration as his hand flowed flawlessly over the sketch pad. Ian tilted his head as he eyed the pictures on the couch, breath catching in his throat as he looked at them.

They were fucking _incredible._

The first picture was a sketch of a lush forest, trees vibrant with green leaves and cracked bark. A worn trail made its way through the middle of the forest, flowers sprouting along both sides of it. The trail led up a hill to where prairie grass appeared to be blowing in the breeze, the detail incredible for how far away it was supposed to be. The thing that caught Ian’s eye the most was the sun that was setting behind the hill, half of the orb visible, making the grass and flowers and trees bathe in a soft orange glow. It was so realistic that Ian felt as if he were looking at an actual picture instead of something hand drawn.

The second picture was a city skyline at night, towering buildings all lit up in the windows. It appeared to be winter in the picture, sidewalks full of snow as people bumbled about in their boots and winter coats, thick scarves blowing in the cold wind. Ian had to smirk at the small details of the picture, such as a dog lifting its leg to piss on a fire hydrant. It was so realistic that Ian was sure he’d see the same exact thing if he looked out his window right now.

Ian was jolted out of his blatant staring by Mickey’s body jerking, causing Ian to look up with wide eyes. Mickey was breathing heavily as he clutched a hand to his chest, a slight frown on his face as he gazed up at Ian.

Ian held up his hands in surrender, showing he meant no harm.

**“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,”** Ian signed, giving him a genuine smile in apology. Mickey hesitantly smiled back and nodded his head in forgiveness. Ian smiled again, gesturing to Mickey’s drawings. **“Those are really fucking good, Mickey. I didn’t know you could draw.”**

Ian blinked in surprise as Mickey lowered his eyes to his lap and _blushed_ while he tried to hide a smile. It didn’t work.

Ian grinned at the sudden bashfulness of the younger boy, trying not to think about how fucking cute he was.

**“May I look?”** Ian asked once he caught Mickey’s eye.

Mickey bit his lip and nodded his head yes, gently shoving the papers in Ian’s direction. Ian smiled in gratitude and gingerly picked them up, examining them even closer. He couldn’t help but be in awe all over again, holding them up close to his face so he could take in every little detail that he didn’t see the first time.

**“These really are amazing, Mickey,”** Ian signs as he settles down on the cushion next to the brunette. **“Is this something you enjoy doing?”**

Mickey shrugs softly and looks over at Ian, lips quirking into a half smile. **“I love doing it. Painting, drawing, whatever. I just didn’t get much of a chance to do it at the shelter.”**

**“Why?”** Ian asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

**“The other kids always tried to steal my stuff, so I could never have it out for long,”** Mickey explains. **“It would take forever to get new stuff if they took it. And who knows what would have happened if they saw me drawing flowers and shit. They’d call me girly or some other stupid fucking names. Or just beat the crap out of me. Who knows.”**

Ian is deeply saddened by the confession. Mickey was amazing at what he did. And if he loved doing it, then he _especially_ deserved to keep doing it. Nobody should be torn down for something they loved doing. It wasn’t right.

**“Well I love them,”** Ian admitted. **“Do you have any others?”**

Mickey nodded and reached over the side of the couch, pulling his ratty backpack onto his lap. He dug inside for a few moments before his hand appeared, multiple papers grasped in it. Ian carefully grabbed them and started shuffling through each one, smiling bigger at each and every picture. There were pictures of buildings, landscapes, objects, flowers, _people_ , each one just as good as the last. Some were drawings and others were paintings, but each one was filled with color and lots of detail. Ian was especially stunned at the pictures of people, wondering how someone could capture a human face _so well_. They all had their own features, whether it be a countless number of freckles on the face, chapped lips, laugh lines, stray hairs or uneven teeth. God, they must have taken _forever_ to draw. Ian couldn’t stop the small spark of anger flare inside of him at the thought of _anybody_ ruining Mikey’s hard work.

**“Would it be ok if I kept some of these?”** Ian found himself asking. **“If not, I understand. These were a lot of work.”**

Mickey nodded and smiled at him. **“Yeah, sure. They were just gonna sit in my backpack for the rest of eternity anyway.”**

**“Thanks!”** Ian replied, picking out a couple of his favorites, which happened to be 3/4ths of the pile. Mickey didn’t say anything though, so Ian decided it was probably ok to take them.

Happy with his pictures, Ian’s eyes flickered to the coffee table where Mickey’s supplies sat. Though he had a small collection, Ian couldn’t help but notice that most of the pencils and crayons were whittled down to almost nothing, some of them even broken in half and held together by dirty scotch tape. The other 2 sketch pads sitting there looked worn and crinkled at the edges.

His eyes flickered back to Mickey, who was back to doodling on the paper in his lap. Ian smiled, an idea forming in his head. He couldn’t put it into motion though until Mickey had a nice meal in his belly.

Ian softly nudged the brunette in the side, gorgeous blue eyes flitting upwards to meet his own green ones.

**“You hungry? I make some damn good french toast.”**

Mickey nodded and rubbed at his nose with a knuckle. **“Yeah, that sounds great.”**

Ian smiled and got up from the couch, leaving Mickey to his drawings as he pulled out the needed ingredients. He frowned as he looked into the fridge, noticing how empty it was getting. He had never much worried about running low on food before. He usually just ordered take-out or went to a restaurant for his meals. But for the first time in his life, Ian was finding himself wondering about what he should make for breakfast the next day, or if he had enough noddles left to make pasta, or what kind of sweet concoction he could make with all of sugar in his cupboard that he never touched.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew the changes in his thinking had been because of Mickey’s presence. And he would be blatantly lying if he said it bothered him. He _liked_ having someone to take care of, to cook for and to talk to late at night. Hell, he even liked doing the extra laundry, though Mickey had told him _plenty_ of times that he could do it himself. It just felt _nice_ having another person need him.

It felt domestic. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time.

**XOXOXOXO**

When the french toast had finally been made, the two sat down at the counter and ate, tearing into the steaming stacks after flooding them with syrup. Ian, wanting to see Mickey smile more, had told him some crazy stories about his family and some of the hilarious situations they had gotten themselves into. His plan had worked. Mickey had smiled throughout a lot of the stories, and to Ian’s surprise, had laughed out loud for a few of them. That had been the first time Ian heard Mickey make any noise, and he immediately craved more of it. Mickey’s laugh was light and happy, like he didn’t have a care in the world. Ian wondered how many other people were able to make Mickey laugh like that, like he had absolutely nothing to worry about.

Once breakfast was finished, Ian collected their plates and put them in the dishwasher, cleaning up sticky syrup with a wet rag before walking back over to Mickey.

**“I have to go run a few errands today. Do you think you’ll be ok here by yourself for a few hours? Or would you like to come with?”** Ian asked.

Mickey’s eyes slid to the window where snow was gently falling outside. He shivered a little and shook his head no.

**“I’m already fucking cold. I’ll be fine by myself,”** Mickey replied, giving Ian a soft smile so the redhead knew he was fine with the idea.

“Ok,” Ian spoke, knowing Mickey could read the word easily enough. **“I’m going to go get dressed then. But if you change your mind before I leave, let me know.”**

Mickey nodded, immediately going back to his sketch pad. Ian smiled at the cute display before heading towards his room to get dressed.

**XOXOXOXO**

Ian let out an exasperated sigh as he stared wide-eyed at the endless amount of art supplies in front of him. How the hell was there so much? Who thought of all this stuff? Ian had always thought a pencil was a pencil, but clearly he was wrong. There had to be 100 different pencil types in front of him, all _somehow_ different even though they all looked the same. And that was only the beginning. There were paints, markers, 3D pens, glitter, chalk, 30 different kinds of sketch paper, brushes and hundreds of other items. Ian suddenly wished he had brought Mickey with him, wanting to see the look on his face at all the different types of art supplies. He’d have to take him here soon so he could experience it himself.

“Can I help you find something?”

Ian jumped at the voice, a hand going up to grasp at his beating heart. His cheeks heated as his eyes fell on a small blonde girl with big brown eyes.

“Oh,” Ian said dumbly, chuckling to himself. “Sorry, I was lost in thought. You scared me.”

The blonde girl smiled, scratching awkwardly at her neck. “Sorry,” she responded. “Ever been in here before? I was shocked the first time I saw all of this, too.”

“You got me,” Ian replied, smiling easily at her. “I didn’t know there were so many kinds of markers. Fucking _markers._ ”

“I take it you’re not the artist?” she asked.

Ian let out a laugh. “Fuck no. I can’t even draw a stick figure. It’s my… my _boyfriend_.” The word slid easily off Ian’s tongue, but it made him feel guilty somehow. “He can draw these pictures that are detailed as shit. Almost like he just took a picture. It’s fucking incredible.”

“Wow,” Blondie breathed in response, a dreamy look in her eyes. “One day I wish to draw as good as that.”

“You draw?” Ian asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Oh yes!” she chirped, dimples showing on her cheeks. “That’s what made me want this job in the first place. Discount on art supplies.”

“Good incentive,” Ian chuckled. “So, do you have any recommendations for a noob like me? ‘Cuz I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

“Of course!” The girl waved him over to a few shelves at the end of the isle. “I’m Clara, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Clara. I’m Ian.”

Clara smiled at him before pointing at a few specific items. “So if he’s good at drawing, then I’d recommend one of these packages of pencils. They’re good for drawing small details as well as shading. They come with some sturdy erasers, too. Now, if you’re looking for some _colored_ pencils…”

Ian spent the next half hour listening to her advice, grabbing item after item and shoving it into a cart. By the time he was satisfied, his cart was brim-full of art supplies, including a huge easel. He knew it was probably overkill and would possibly weird Mickey out, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted Mickey to have nice things after having such a shitty time in homeless shelters. So, with a big thank you to a smiling Clara, Ian left the store with half a dozen bags hanging off his arms.

**XOXOXOXO**

When Ian arrives home, he drags the grocery bags up first, wanting to get some items in the fridge as soon as possible. Mickey is exactly where Ian left him, sitting at the kitchen island and doodling on some paper. He looks up when he sees Ian out the corner of his eye, smiling softly as his eyes flicker to the bags in Ian’s hands.

**“You want some help with that?”** Mickey signs, cocking his head in question.

Ian shakes his head no as he shoves a gallon of milk in the fridge. **“Just have a few more bags but thanks anyway.”**

Mickey shrugs, turning back to his drawing, leaving Ian the perfect opportunity to go back out to the car and collect the bags of art supplies. He has a little trouble grabbing all of them, but he manages well enough, not wanting to make another trip back out into the freezing cold. As Ian bumbles his way back inside, nearly wilting under the weight of bags in his arms, he kicks the door shut behind him and carefully sets the supplies on the floor, feeling seriously out of breath from his tiny excursion.

“Need to fuckin’ work out more,” he huffs as he unzips his jacket and shrugs it off his shoulders. He scratches awkwardly at the back of his head as his eyes flicker to Mickey, who is still busy drawing in his sketchpad. Curious, Ian walks towards him, quietly creeping up behind him until he can look over his shoulder. He squints his eyes and tilts his head as he examines the drawing, not quite sure what it is. There’s just a bunch of squiggly lines, some dark and shaded in, but Ian knew whatever it was would look amazing once complete.

He shifted his eyes over a little, seeing a couple of other drawings sitting near Mickey’s elbow. He can’t help but grin at the vibrant colors on the pages, contrasting nicely with the black marble of his counter. Both were nature scenes, one a field of tall grass with a horse grazing in it while the other was a picture of the northern lights at night. His grin grew even bigger as he spied all of Mickey’s art supplies scattered around the counter. A warm feeling filled his chest as he noticed the tips of Mickey’s fingers were stained different colors, a few smudges traveling up his arms. A dark shade of blue even had the audacity to stain a small spot on his cheek. Ian’s fingers flexed, wanting nothing more than to swipe his thumb over the spot to wipe it away.

Ian notices a few of Mickey’s lighter colors had left small smears on the countertop. For as much as Ian had paid for the condo, he knew he should be a little upset about the lack of cleanliness. The condo was usually immaculate, after all. However, as his gaze traveled from the insipidness of his living room to the kaleidoscopic drawings laying on his counter, he found himself just not giving a shit. In fact, he had the strongest urge to ask Mickey if he could make more and more and _more_ , already imagining how much livelier the house would look like bathed in colors that weren’t just black and white. So yeah, his counter may have been a mess, but it had never looked better.

Before Ian knew what was happening, his hand shot out from his side and smacked Mickey in the arm. The brunette jumped in his seat, clutching a color-stained hand to his heart, blue eyes wide.

**“Shit, sorry,”** Ian quickly apologized, giving him a sheepish smile. **“I wanted to show you something but I guess I got a little too excited.”**

Mickey just blinked at him for a few moments before a small grin made its way onto his face, white teeth shining beneath the kitchen lights. **“Well you didn’t have to fucking take my arm off, man.”**

Ian smiled in relief, his unease disappearing immediately. He reached out, _gently_ this time, and encircled Mickey’s small wrist in hand, giving a soft tug until Mickey gave him a questioning look and slid off the bar stool. Ian didn’t let go until they were standing in front of the bags on the floor, biting his lip as he looked at Mickey.

**“So I lied,”** Ian signed, earning a himself a raised eyebrow. **“While I did go to the grocery store, that wasn’t the only place I went. I stopped by Michaels before coming home. Have you ever been there?”**

Mickey rubbed his knuckle against his nose as he shook his head no. **“Never even fucking heard of it.”**

Ian nodded, feeling like an idiot. Mickey had spent most of his life in a homeless shelter. When would he have gotten the time to go browse the isles of an arts and crafts store?

**“Basically, it’s a giant store for people who love doing art projects. You know, drawing, painting, sewing, all of that stuff. You told me you rarely got the chance to get new art supplies, so I went and bought you some.”**

Mickey’s eyes grew wide as he looked back and forth from all the bags on the floor to Ian. He swallowed thickly and opened his mouth as if he were actually going to say something. He gave a tiny shake of his head as his eyes connected with Ian’s once more.

**“All of these bags?”** Mickey asked, fingers shaky as he signed.

“Yeah,” Ian voiced, nodding his head. He rested a hand on the small of Mickey’s back and gently guided him forward to the bags. **“Go ahead and look. It’s all yours, Mickey.”**

Mickey just stared up at Ian with a strange look in his eyes, biting his bottom lip so hard that it started turning white. He finally swallowed once more before lowering himself to his knees and grabbing the first bag within reach. He curiously peered inside, his entire body stilling before he reached in and pulled out a few tubes of paint and paintbrushes. He carefully unscrewed the cap on a deep purple color and squeezed it lightly, a happy smile lighting up his face as the color inside became visible to Mickey’s eyes.

Ian crossed his arms over his chest and smiled softly at the childlike display of happiness, watching Mickey dig through each bag and grin like a lunatic over every single item. Ian couldn’t’ remember a time where he had ever witnessed someone be so thrilled over gifts he had gotten them. It was a good feeling.

After Mickey had thoroughly looked his fill and touched all the items and read all of the product descriptions, he abruptly shoved himself off the floor and spun around to face Ian. Ian panicked a little as Mickey blinked up at him, not liking the fact that he could see those ice-blue eyes filling with tears. For a moment he wondered if he had done something wrong, something to upset Mikey. Those thoughts flew out of his head the moment Mickey lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Ian’s waist, burying his face in the redheads chest as his small fingers tightly gripped the fabric of Ian’s shirt.

_It was a thank you._

Ian responded moments later by wrapping Mickey up in his own embrace, holding him snuggly against his body as Mickey sniffled into his shirt. It was such a raw moment that Ian felt his own eyes start to tear up, but he quickly closed them and rested his cheek against the top of Mickeys head. As he rocked them slowly from side to side, Ian took a deep inhale of Mickey’s soft hair. His heart fluttered as he caught the familiar scent of his own shampoo, liking the way Mickey smelled of him, like Mickey was _his_.

His initial concerns about his little crush on Mickey completely vanished, not able to think of anything else besides how _right_ it felt to hold Mickey in his arms. With his chest overflowing with warmth, Ian slightly shifted his face against Mickey’s head until he could press a soft kiss to his hairline. And when Mickey clung to him _just a little_ tighter, all Ian could do was smile.

**XOXOXOXO**

Later that night the two boys found themselves graced with Mandy’s presence and the surprise milkshakes she had brought with her. Ian had been highly amused when Mickey ignored the milkshake altogether in favor of becoming a human octopus, clinging to Mandy in happiness. Mandy had laughed and ruffled his hair as she spent the following 10 minutes hugging him back. It was sweet, really, Ian cooing as much to Mandy before she flipped him the bird, joined with a firm _leave him alone, jackass._

Fast forward a half hour and here they were, standing in Mickey’s room which now resembled more of an art studio than anything. After Mickey had wiped the tears from his eyes with an embarrassed look on his face, he had thanked Ian properly before shyly asking if he could set up the paint easel. Ian had enthusiastically agreed, helping the brunette drag all of the supplies into his room. An hour had been spent with the two of them opening all of the packages and shoving supplies into drawers and setting up the paint easel that Mickey had gave longing looks to. Once they were done, Ian had watched with a smile on his face as Mickey broke open his new paint supplies and started making colorful strokes on the blank canvas. That’s what he had been doing until Mandy showed up, stopping for a tiny reunion with his favorite girl before happily going back at it, Mandy and Ian quietly observing behind him.

“This is amazing, Ian,” Mandy said quietly.

“I know. He’s fucking great at that, isn’t he? Fuckin’ blows my mind,” Ian murmurs, eyes locked on Mickey’s hands as they dip the paint brush into a new color.

“That’s not what I meant,” Mandy replies, causing Ian to frown and look at her.

“You don’t think so?” Ian asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mandy rolled her eyes and shook her head fondly. “That’s not what I meant dumbass. Of _course_ Mickey’s work is wonderful. That kid has some serious talent,” she says, sounding as if she was trying to defend Mickey’s honor. She then loses the feistiness as a soft, serious look crosses her features. “What I meant was the room, Ian. Or more importantly, the stuff inside. All these art supplies? You went out and fucking _bought_ them, Ian. Probably spent a lot of money doing it, too. That’s a really sweet thing for you to do. I can tell Mickey really appreciates it. He really fucking does.”

Ian blushes scarlet and shrugs his shoulders, playing it off like it was nothing. “I probably went a little overboard, but he told me about how much he loved drawing and painting. I noticed his own supplies were down to nubs, so I figured I’d go out and buy him more. He deserves that much.”

Mandy hummed quietly in agreement, shoving her hands in the pockets of her sweatshirt. The two stood silently for a few moments as they continued to watch Mickey paint, a happy flush to his cheeks.

“He likes you, you know,” Mandy murmurs, gaze never leaving the gorgeous brunette. Ian’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he turned to stare at her, noticing the way she hesitantly bit her lip before continuing. “This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him… He feels safe here.”

Ian swallowed thickly and ran a shaky hand through his hair, not entirely sure what to do with that information. The confession made Ian’s heart twinge painfully as he glanced at the brunette, whom was blissfully unaware of Ian’s inner turmoil taking place behind him. Ian knew there was a lot more of Mickey that he hadn’t yet experienced, the brunette still a little shy and nervous around Ian. But Ian was slowly trying to crack through that shell, catching the smallest glimpses of the kind person inside.

That being said, if Mickey was the most comfortable around Ian, who he’d only know for a handful of days at most, what had it been like for him in the youth shelter? Had he constantly been on edge, wary of the other kids around him? Ian’s gut rolled at how tiring that sounded, hoping beyond hope that that wasn’t the case. But the way Mandy had said those words, so quiet and honest, gave Ian all of the evidence he needed.

Ian swallowed thickly once more before clearing his throat, whispering hoarsely, “I’m glad, Mands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said, not too happy with the end but hopefully some of you found it good. As always, thanks so much for reading!


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